"I think it's just ripping," said his friend, "that it looks so good to you, starting out. It makes a heap of difference, sometimes, how a thing begins."
"It surely does. Right now, the whole thing seems too good to be true."
"Well," said the other, "as long as it strikes you that way I suppose you're satisfied now for all the grind you did preparing for it. But I don't believe it would suit me. It might be all right to be a Forest Ranger, but you told me one time that you had to start in as a Fire Guard, a sort of Fire Policeman, didn't you?"
"Sure!"
"Well, that doesn't sound particularly exciting."
"Why not? What more excitement do you want than a forest fire! Isn't that big enough for you?"
"The fire would be all right," answered the older boy, "but it's the watching and waiting for it that would get me."
"You can't expect to have adventures every minute anywhere," said Wilbur, "but even so, you're not standing on one spot like a sailor in a crow's nest, waiting for something to happen; you're in the saddle, riding from point to point all day long, sometimes when there is a trail and sometimes when there isn't, out in the real woods, not in poky, stuffy city streets. You know, Fred, I can't stand the city; I always feel as if I couldn't breathe."
"All right, Wilbur," said the other, "it's your own lookout, I suppose. Me for the city, though."
Just then, and before Fred could make any further reply, a hand was laid on Wilbur's shoulder, and the lad, looking around, found the Chief Forester walking beside them.